When the car engine roared to life and Irene’s foot stepped onto the pedal, I almost expected and wanted her to barge the car right into the empty building Ash just went into.

Took the correct turn, the correct street towards its location, but instead of barging in, Irene made a turn in the opposite direction from it, leaving the abandoned lot simply as a shrinking figure at the backseat of the car.

“Wait, wait!” I shouted, resisting the impulse to turn the car right around myself. “What about Ash? We just saw her there - she’s still alive!”

“There was never a doubt in my mind that she was. Matriarch’s do not outright kill their victims, they slowly feed on them until nothing is left but a hollow shell.”

“All the more reason to then!”

“We have time, relax!” She said, her tone verging on annoyance. “We only came here today because I wanted to confirm the Matriarch's location. I followed her there last night after I was attacked but I lost sight of her before I could find out. I figured one of her puppets might hang about that area, and I figured one of them might be your friend, so I brought you here. Now that we’ve seen them, now we know and now we can plan.”

“And they hang about - Ash was outside, why exactly?”

“It’s routine,” Irene explained. “Vampires are nocturnal. They need puppets in the day to search out for fresh food in their place. To anybody else they look normal, except for the fact that they have no will of their own and they don’t speak, well… only to their subjugators, I suppose.”

There was a time not long before this, where I would have been very much doubtful over everything that has happened. Like being explained a vampire’s daily life cycle for one, past-me would have shrugged it off and went on with life.

Now I’m taking all of this in like it was the word of God. Now, instead of shrugging it away, I’m about to ask a question about it. Funny how life works sometimes.

“If she’s going to frenzy,” I said. “Why would it be necessary to send out puppets to look for food? Frenzy would mean she couldn’t care less about whose neck she gets to sink her teeth into.”

“Correct.” she said.

I saw her lips tightened, her forehead lined with creases. The shake of her head, the sharp hiss through clenched teeth. Bad news. Uh-oh.

“Two possibilities then. One - I could be wrong about the timeframe and she’s not going to frenzy at all meaning it’s business as usual, one victim a night.”

“That’s the good news,” I said, noticing the sun sinking lower down the darkening horizon. “What’s the bad?”

Her hand shook as she shifted gears. “Two - The Matriarch that attacked your friend, and the Matriarch that attacked me aren’t the same person. Meaning to say…”

“Two. You’re saying there’s two of them?!”

“The most unlikeliest scenario possible,” she said in a quiet voice. “But I know I’m not wrong about the timeframe, I’ve seen how she looked… and there’s no other possible explanation for this, so...”

She trailed away, she didn’t have to say anymore. We both already knew what this meant.

“One Matriarch needed an entire army just to bring her down. At least, that’s what the game’s codex entry claimed,” I said, taking in a gulp of air that was also filled with her scent, except I wasn’t affected by it, not this time. “Now you’re telling me we have two of them running amok in this city, with one about to frenzy.”

Irene gave a fleeting glance at my direction before turning her eyes back to the road.

“You’re panicking,” she said.

“No shit.”

“You need to relax. Want a kiss?”

What.

“What?”

“A succubus’s kiss can put someone in a state of bliss for hours. The longer the kiss, the longer the bliss. Want one? I won’t mind. Besides, rumor has it I’m a great kisser.”

Irene said that with such nonchalance I couldn’t tell whether she was joking or not. But judging by the way the sternness was gone from her voice and how her eyes had lost that scowl…

Was I talking to the Detective or the Succubus here? Either way…

“I’ll pass,” I told her. “Just tell me what you got planned and I’ll calm down.”

I heard her lightly chuckle.

“A direct kiss from a Succubus is about as rare as a Matriarch herself. You sure you want to pass on that?”

The conversation just veered into an entirely different direction that was downright bizarre. I’m a bit unsettled by it all, actually.

I stared at her, mildly taken aback. “You seem very intent on kissing me for some reason. Are you sure it’s not you who wants a kiss from me?”

Another chuckle. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just want to make sure you’re calm.”

“And kissing me is the best idea you came up with?”

“Can’t help what I am, sorry to say,” she said, flashing a sorrowful smile. “But still, kinda stings getting rejected. A normal guy would have already pounced on me before I could get the words out of my mouth. Especially with my scent wafting about all around the place.”

My eyes wandered over to the window, shaking my head. “I kind of have my mind on other things right now. Kissing you, as blissful as it might be, isn’t really high up on that list of things, unless…”

Her reflection stared back at me from the passenger-side window, still lingering that small smile.

“Unless,” I continued in sudden realization. “You needed me calm and happy for a reason.”

“Since when did you get so sharp?”

“I didn't take you for the type to flirt without a reason,” I turned back to face her. “You already have a plan in place, don’t you?”

Her eyes still set on the road, she let out a sigh, but that smile stayed, if only faintly.

“A plan, yes. Commitment to it? Not as much,” she said.

I tilted my head at her. “Why, what’s wrong with it?”

“Well to start, it’s not ethical, it’s downright dangerous…” she looked back at me. “And you might refuse.”

“So that’s why you want me in bliss,” I said. “Can’t disagree if I can’t think straight.”

“My bad,” she said, giving a sigh and arching her eyebrows. “Forgiven?”

“I already agreed back at the motel, remember? You don’t need to be tricking me.”

“That was back when we thought there was only one. I thought… y’know? People get cold feet all the time. I was worried you’d back out.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, like two is going to make much of a difference. Out with it, what do you got? What do I have to do?”

Since my focus was entirely on Irene at that point, I didn’t realize we’ve already slowed to a stop. Not until she killed the engine and pulled out the keys.

The motel looked even more foreboding and decrepit in the night light. Crickets were chirping in the silence, traffic on the road had been reduced to the occasionally passing car, and the street lights flickered on at every corner, giving the overall atmosphere a yellowish tinge to it.

“Can I ask you something?” said Irene.

“Shoot.”

“Why risk yourself? How are you so committed to this?”

I shifted in place. “You’re trying to say something. What is it?”

“The Elf,” she said, heaving a breath. “You’ve known her for two weeks. Is that really all the time you need to decide you want to risk your life for her? She’s more than just a friend, isn’t she?”

“She’s a friend.”

“You took her in, you sheltered her, you fed her, clothed her, taught her, you took care of her.”

“Things that friends do, obviously.”

Irene shook her head. “There’s more to it. You like her? Love her? What is she to you really?”

What is she to me?

I’ve never really thought about it.

Ash the Knight-Elf. The dumpster dwelling, cereal loving, car-obsessive Elf. The girl that had spent most her nights awake, studying this world, watching over me, without a word of complaint.

A hero of justice. A proper chivalrous knight. Yet also a kind, caring and curious girl.

Or…

Eshwlyn the Knight-Elf. The malevolent, cold-hearted, psychotic servant of evil. The girl I’ve witnessed slaying people, albeit virtual people, in cold-blood, grin wickedly as she tore a man’s head off, and laugh derisively as she slowly crushed Leonardo’s ribcage.

If she really did come from the game. Then both actions, at completely opposite sides of the spectrum, were done by the same person. The same Ash.

Ultimately it came down to one simple question, just who do I think of when I think of Ash? What do I see her as? The girl who’s palm I’ve bandaged in the silence of my room? Or the girl who wouldn’t hesitate to dig a blade through someone’s gut?

The disparity between the two personalities was an extreme one. It was not an easy question to answer. I didn’t have an answer at all. I needed to look for one, and there’s just one place, one person, that I’ll get that from.

Slowly, I drew my gaze back to Irene’s.

“Ash is… well, if it wasn’t for her, I might not even have the courage to be so committed in the first place. Who she is… what she is… and who she is to me… I don’t know yet. But I know that when I see her again, I’ll definitely have my answer. That’s why I’m going. I’m curious.”

Irene furrowed her brows. “You might be heading straight to your death, and you’re doing it because you’re curious about her?”

“Precisely.”

There was silence for a while, and then…

“The most cliched answer said in the most cliched way possible, oh boy,” Irene sighed. “Alright then, your funeral.”

“Sweet.”

We both got out of the car and headed into the motel with the manager blundering his way towards us to greet Irene with the clumsiest bow ever in mankind’s history.

Like the succubus she is, she let out a playful giggle hidden underneath the palm of her hand, finishing him off with a wink that just sent him all the way to cloud nine.

The expression ‘dancing in the palm of her hand’ couldn’t have resonated with me more than it did then.

As we reached the final hallway to my room, I decided to ask her a question to which her answer has been denied to me time and time again.

“It’s nearly time, you know?” I said. “The plan, what is it, and what do you need me to do?"

Irene gave this rigid stare at me before answering.

“It’s simple really, we’re going to be trading places.”

“Meaning?”

“I’ll be staying behind and keeping low… meanwhile…”

From somewhere within her uniform pocket, I saw her pull out something long, narrow, and with a sharpened tip. I didn’t realize what it was until she, without asking, plopped the object into my palm.

It was a box cutter.

Confused, I looked up at her, only to see a bit of hesitance and uneasiness in her eyes, as she spoke again.

“You’re going to be victim number 9.”